


The Normal Way

by Khashana



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, It's For a Case, M/M, Mycroft's Meddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock don't do anything the normal way. So it's hardly a surprise when their relationship progresses quite out of the usual order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Normal Way

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Define Love](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/43870) by CaskettFanGirl. 



> A/N: Look, a cute Sherlock fic! I tried to keep them IC, please let me know how I did!  
> This is a deviation from my usual canon-compliancy because it is sort of based on CaskettFanGirl’s [Define Love](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8808971/1/Define-Love), which details the first piece of this story. You should go and read it first.  
> Also! I realized when I was half done with it that I’ve gone and stolen the plot bunny from p.r. fox’s [A Bit Backwards](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6637294/1/A-Bit-Backwards). Only realized that when I was going through my old reviews looking for stories that had been updated, saw an interesting one, and clicked on the story to re-read it. But this came out different, so I’m posting it anyway.

They don’t do things the normal way. They never have.  
  
Most couples date, kiss, fall in love, and get married, in approximately that order.  
  
Sherlock and John started out by falling in love. Unless you count all those dates that other people thought they were having, but John contends that it only counts if both parties are aware that it is a date, and since he spent a long time firmly in denial, basically all of those not-dates are out.  
  
They didn’t even do that the normal way. They were just having a conversation, and something John said made it click, and they shared a glance, and they both knew.  
  
And, well, then John smiled and went back to watching telly, and Sherlock was so relieved that he started correcting everything on the programme until John turned it off in exasperation and asked him to finish the story himself then, if he knew so much. But he was smiling, so Sherlock did, using many details from the programme to back himself up. And the rest of the next couple of days went on as usual, if maybe containing a few more smiles directed at each other.  
  
A couple days later, they got married. It was a matter of national security or something, and John never did ask for the details; all he knows is that Mycroft kidnapped him one day, handed him the paperwork, and told him they were now in a civil partnership. It fitted in with a case Sherlock was working on that was of particular national importance, so when John got home, what Sherlock said was, “Where have you been? I’ve had to go study a corpse without you. This one had porcupine quills stuck underneath the fingernails, so I’ve collected a list of local zoos with porcupines and everyone who has access to them, but there is a possibility it’s a privately owned porcupine.”  
  
John only huffed and sat down on the easy chair. “Mycroft’s married us,” was all he said.  
  
“Oh. All right, then.”  
  
“All right?”  
  
“Not all right?”  
  
“Bit not all right, Sherlock!” John got up and stomped into the kitchen to make tea. Sherlock stared at him for a moment, then followed. John glanced at him, and softened. Sherlock was wearing his I’m-utterly-baffled-by-human-reaction-and-need-your-help-but-am-too-embarrassed-to-ask-for-it expression.  
  
“Look,” he started awkwardly, “If there was nothing between us, it wouldn’t be a problem. It’d be, oh, Mycroft, you old meddler, we’ll never stop the rumours now. We’d have a laugh, go out to Angelo’s, and I’d try not to mention that I’m married to my flatmate to my next girlfriend.” He fiddled with a teabag to avoid the intensity of Sherlock’s eyes. After all, they hadn’t actually talked about It at all. There had been an understanding, or at least he thought there had been— _bloody hell what if he was wrong_ —and they had left it at that. He took a breath. _You’ve invaded Afghanistan, you can do this._ That made his mouth quirk up in a smile for a second. “But there is something between us, isn’t there?”  
  
“I was under that impression,” said Sherlock quietly, and John exhaled with relief.  
  
“So, the issue is whether we want to be married, and if one of us says yes, he wants to be married to the other one, it’s kind of weird, because we’ve just started this something and it’s way too soon for that kind of commitment. And if one of us says no, then it’s kind of disappointing even though the other one _knows_ it’s too soon, because deep down he’s wondering if not wanting to get married _yet_ means not wanting to get married _ever_ and if there’s something wrong with marrying him, and—” He was cut off by the feel of one of Sherlock’s fingers tilting his face up until their eyes met. There was a moment in which nothing at all was said with words. “And because you’re Sherlock Holmes, we can just skip right over that, can’t we,” he finished, suddenly completely at ease. With the situation anyway—locking eyes with Sherlock like that was making his heart beat so fast it was almost uncomfortable.  
  
“I’m Sherlock Holmes and you’re John Watson,” Sherlock corrected him. “So I can skip over it if you can. It’s just a piece of paper, John, that says we can make decisions for each other and spend each others’ money and such.”  
  
“This particular marriage might be,” said John, “But a _marriage_ is about love and commitment and loyalty, and being willing to say in front of all your friends and family that you are sticking with this person forever.”  
  
“If we ever feel the need to be married for professing love, commitment, and loyalty in front of friends and family, we can have a commitment ceremony,” said Sherlock simply. “Same-sex couples in America, for example, do it all the time where they can’t have a legal relationship. And until then, we already spend each other’s money, and there’s no one I’d rather have make my medical decisions for me. _Let_ Mycroft marry us.”  
  
And that was as romantic as Sherlock would ever get, and John _knew_ that, which made it incredibly sweet, and Sherlock was _still right there_ and John really _wanted_ to, so—  
  
John kissed him.  
  
It was sweet and gentle and hesitant and everything and nothing he’d expected. They broke apart gently and Sherlock gazed at him with flushed cheeks and pupils blown--if not to their extremes, then wide enough for John to smile. The heat in his face and the quality of his vision told him he looked much the same.  
  
“To celebrate our getting married?” asked Sherlock in a half-whisper, and John laughed so hard he had to lean against the counter. Sherlock stared at him for a minute, and then started to laugh as well. “Come on,” Sherlock chortled finally, “Let’s go to Angelo’s.”  
  
At Angelo’s, they got a candle for their table as usual, and John was in such a good mood he had to tell _somebody_. So, he met Sherlock’s eyes, and they did another one of their telepathy moments, and agreed that it was fine to tell Angelo.  
  
“You’ve finally got your wish, Angelo,” said John.  
  
“Eh?”  
  
“We’re here on our first date,” said Sherlock, smiling.  
  
“Only now?” cried Angelo. “Ah, well, taking it slow is underrated these days. Get to know each other, right? Then first date. Couple days later, first kiss. Couple years later, get married. None of this rushing into things business teenagers are doing.”  
  
“Ah, well, we have to disappoint you there,” said Sherlock, smirking at John. “We got married today as well.”  
  
“And then we had our first kiss.” John laughed, finding the whole thing just as funny as he had in the flat. “And only now are we having our first date.”  
  
“You’re forgetting something, John,” said Sherlock, but he didn’t look disappointed.  
  
“What?”  
  
“We fell in love first of all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes, forget all about Angelo, who is now entirely confused.


End file.
